


We Were Born Sick

by MakingPoetry



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Revenge, darker Bucky Barnes, killing lots of random Hydra agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakingPoetry/pseuds/MakingPoetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., Bucky doesn't spend as much time trying to 'find' himself and remember who he used to be as he does exacting his revenge on Hydra. His first self-appointed mission is to kill as many of them as he can--and track down his old handlers. Along the way, he gets a little help in the form of Ward, who has his own reasons to fight Hydra. Their methods are unorthodox, and when the remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. get wind of them, they have more problems than Hydra to worry about. Including Steve Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this first chapter for so many months. I am still not confident yet writing Ward, but I'm working on it, and I'm getting there. Hopefully the next chapter won't take like, five months to write. I wrote and I rewrote so many times. I like playing around with the idea of a darker Bucky, post-TWS.
> 
> Also, uh, more tags will come as I work on this more, I just wasn't sure so far what to slap on this.

It had been a few months since the helicarriers had crashed into the Potomac and he'd pulled the good Captain out of the river. He'd done a lot in that time, whether it was another sleepless night spent trying to ward off the ghosts from his past or hunting down information on who he used to be. Hydra had taken _everything_ from him, and he was going to make them pay. They'd found him after he'd fallen from the train, but they hadn't _saved_ him. They'd prolonged his survival, made him physically whole again, but what they did to him couldn't be considered _saving_ , not with all of the pain and suffering they'd caused. The only thing he owed them was a healthy dose of the same.

They'd torn him down, stripped away everything he'd been before, everything he would _never_ be again. The man called James Buchanan Barnes had died a long time ago when Hydra had hollowed him out and poured someone new into the empty space left behind. All that was left now were fragments of memories, scraps of the man who'd died in the snow. He might not be the Winter Soldier anymore, but he wasn't James, either. He didn't know _what_ he was now; he was still trying to figure it out, one step at a time. Maybe he would never know, maybe he would always be stuck in limbo, but he was at least _trying_.

One thing he did know, was that hunting down Hydra sated something deep within him, something _dark_. Being wrist deep in a guard's stomach, the blade of his knife scraping against bone, wasn't something a _good_ man did, not unless it was for survival. This had nothing to do with survival and everything to do with vengeance. Personally, these men hadn't even done anything to him, but they wore the Hydra logo on their uniforms and that was a death sentence as far as he was concerned. He didn't hesitate as he snapped a neck with blood smeared metal fingers or crushed a skull beneath his boot.

There was no mercy here; that wasn't the way he'd been trained. Mercy, hesitation, _compassion_ , they were all weaknesses according to his former handlers. He might not have agreed with all of that now that he had the freedom to make up his own mind about things, but Hydra had never shown _him_ any mercy. He was just returning the favor. 

The security at this facility was lax. They clearly hadn't been expecting to see much action and they certainly didn't seem prepared for the former _fist of Hydra_ to return and pay them a visit. This wasn't the first place he'd cut a bloody path through, but when he left no survivors and destroyed the security cam data, news spread slowly on who was actually doing it. They could speculate, but they couldn't prove it unless they had a live feed to another location. Sooner or later they would figure it out and then they would send men after him, to bring him back. He would kill _them_ , too, when the time came.

For now, he trashed the surveillance data bank, made sure there was no way they could retrieve any sort of usable information from the machines, swiped some files about the locations of other Hydra compounds, some blueprints, and a few things that just _looked_ important, and then left. He made sure no one was outside to witness his exit, and then took a very complicated route back to the trashy motel he was staying at, in case anyone tried to follow him.

It was the kind of motel where people didn't ask a lot of questions. No one cared what time of day or night you came and went, so long as you paid on time and didn't cause trouble for others. You could probably _murder_ someone in one of the rooms and so long as you cleaned up the mess, no one would say a word. From the suspicious stains on the carpet, he thought someone really _might have_ been murdered in his room.

He shrugged out of the jacket he'd worn over his uniform after he left the facility so his metal arm wouldn't catch the light, and dropped it to the floor. It was a windbreaker, an easy to clean material, which was why he'd chosen it; it got bloody pretty quick, considering what he'd spent his time doing lately. He would worry about it later though, as he stripped to the waist. He needed a shower first, to wash the blood from his hands, face, and hair.

He'd just pulled his turtleneck over his head when there was a knock on the door. His head whipped around as he stared at the door, his body tensing. The door was locked, but he didn't trust its strength or the strength of the locks on it, and if he needed, the window in the bathroom was just big enough for him to fit though. He'd tested it the first night he'd come here, just in case. 

For a moment, he debated getting dressed again and covering up his arm, but then decided even if it _was_ someone harmless, he wasn't going to let them into his room. He would keep his arm out of sight, instead.

Pulling a knife from his belt, he made his way to the door and peered through the peephole. It seemed like there was only one man out there, dressed casually and clean shaven. Nothing about him actually _said_ Hydra, but considering Bucky was still covered with the blood of agents, he was understandably prone to jumping to conclusions. Most of the time, especially when it came to Hydra, it helped him survive.

He kept his left arm out of sight, knife clutched in his metal hand, and opened the door only halfway, just enough to see outside. He didn't undo the chain; it was kind of flimsy, but it was better than nothing. His wary suspicion was met with calm patience from the man outside, rather than a gun in his face like he'd half expected.

"You're a hard man to find," his uninvited, and probably unwelcome, guest said.

The hair on the back of Bucky's neck prickled and his grip on his knife tightened. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"I really don't think you want to do this right here. It's not exactly private," the man said reasonably.

He had a point, but that wasn't Bucky's main concern. His main concern _was_ that this man sounded like he'd been looking for Bucky. He didn't seem like S.H.I.E.L.D., and they wouldn't send someone in alone, anyway. It would have been stupid, considering how dangerous it was. Hydra wouldn't either, not unless it was some sort of trap. They could just storm the building though, take him and kill the witnesses, cover it up as some kind of terrorist act if they _really_ wanted to get their hands on him again.

Wordlessly, he undid the chain on the door and opened it enough to drag the man inside. Kicking the door shut, he shoved his guest up against the wall, one hand clenched in the collar of his jacket, the other bringing the knife up to press it against his neck.

"Did Hydra send you?" he asked. S.H.I.E.L.D. would have identified themselves already, or they would have just sent Steve Rogers. Steve _had_ to be out of the hospital by now.

"No. They don't know I'm here." His gaze drifted to Bucky's metal arm, taking it in without seeming too bothered by it. Lots of people stared; staring was normal. Even Hydra agents did it, but not this man. If anything, he seemed to _admire_ Bucky's arm. "I'm not here to hurt you."

 _They don't know I'm here_. Something about that didn't sit right with Bucky, like this man worked for them and had just neglected to tell his superiors he was stepping out to meet up with an assassin, so he decided to make himself more clear. "Are you Hydra?" 

"Not anymore-"

That was the wrong answer, and Bucky interrupted him before he could continue, pressing the knife in harder, the tip of the blade digging into skin with almost enough force to draw blood. "I didn't think Hydra accepted resignations," he said with a scowl.

The man, rather unfortunately in Bucky's opinion, did the wise thing and kept still. He didn't make any sudden movements, though he _did_ look vaguely uncomfortable, but he kept his hands open and empty. Nonthreatening. "They don't, but they don't know I'm not loyal. That's why I'm here. You want to destroy them, and I can help." He was calm and rational, not what someone with a knife to their throat should be like. Maybe he didn't think Bucky would really do it. Would _he_ be in for a surprise.

That wasn't even close to the answer Bucky had been expecting though, not after the previous one. He didn't _understand_. Why would this man help him? He knew who Bucky was, at least as the Winter Soldier, so he knew how dangerous both he and this situation was. His brow furrowed. "Why would you do that?"

"Let's just say I have promises to keep." The man's apparent sincerity didn't do much to sway Bucky. Men could say a lot without really meaning it in desperate situations, when they didn't want to die.

"Not good enough," Bucky told him flatly, the knife staying right where it was. He wasn't about to let his guard down so easily.

The man remained calm, for the most part, his gaze shifting down to Bucky's arm again before returning to his face. "Hydra's hurt people I care about, too," he said, "You'll never be free while they're still around. You'll always be looking over your shoulder, and so will I. Together, we can destroy them from the inside out, striking the heart instead of the head."

He was persuasive at least, and it made Bucky hesitate as he thought it over. He didn't like it one bit, but he would at least _consider_ it before he slit any more throats. Maybe this guy had information Bucky could use, if nothing else, and he wasn't about to turn down the chance to learn more about any of Hydra's plans.

Dragging the man away from the wall, Bucky guided him towards one of the cheap motel chairs and shoved him down into it. He reached for the handcuffs hooked on his belt and used them to restrain him there, hands behind his back. It wasn't the best set up, mostly because the chair was cheap and a little flimsy, but it would have to do.

"I'm going to take a shower," Bucky said, "Then we'll see." He left the room, listening intently while he showered and half expecting to hear the sound of breaking furniture as his guest escaped. There was only silence.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the shower without any lingering traces of blood. His hair was still wet, slicked back from his face and baring the electrical burn scars on his temples. He was even wearing a shirt this time, like a proper host.

The man was still sitting exactly where Bucky had left him, surprisingly. Bucky decided he would have to ask his name sooner or later so he would have something proper to refer to him as, for however long this lasted, and to make sure he wasn't someone Bucky _recognized_. Those people got bumped to the top of his murder list pretty quick, and he couldn't trust his memory just because someone had an unfamiliar face.

Dragging over the other chair, Bucky sat down, eye-to-eye with the man. Honestly, he had no idea what to do with him. There was what his gut instinct said and there was his curiosity. Instinct told him to just kill this guy and be on his way, because it was better not to take chances when it came to Hydra. Curiosity wanted him to find out what he was _really_ after. He was skeptical that he'd come all this way just to _help_ him. No one ever had before.

"What's your name?" Bucky asked.

"Grant Ward," the man replied, "Don't worry; you don't know me."

"But you know who I am?" The name was unfamiliar as far as he was aware of, so for now, he was inclined to believe that Ward had no connections to the Winter Soldier.

"Who doesn't? Hydra made you very public when they tried to take down S.H.I.E.L.D. A lot of people know who the Winter Soldier is. But they don't know _who_ you are. They don't know you're Bucky."

Bucky stiffened, his shoulders tensing up, and Ward paid close attention to his body language.

"Or do you prefer James?" Ward asked.

"That's not who I am anymore." Hydra had broken him down and rebuilt him, and now he was something new. He had the memories, but it wasn't the same.

"How could you be?" Ward agreed, "But you can try and find peace. You can make sure they won't come after you."

It felt too easy, too _good_. What did Ward get out of this? Why had he taken the time to find Bucky? He wanted to destroy Hydra too, and if he could do it on his own he wouldn't be here.

"Why are you betraying them?" It felt like there had to be a string attached to this somehow. How did he know there weren't soldiers waiting outside? Aside from the fact that subtle like this wasn't Hydra's style, not in his experience.

Ward took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled. "When I was a teenager, Hydra took me in. They changed my life, made me stronger. After Hydra revealed themselves, my old SO was killed. I don't owe Hydra anything anymore."

"So you never bought into their bullshit?" Bucky asked.

"No." Ward shook his head. "I was only loyal to one man."

Bucky took his time to think that over. It wasn't like Ward was going anywhere, after all. He decided, in the end, that this was worth a chance. Just one. If Ward betrayed him, that would be the end of him, no matter how many Hydra agents Bucky had to go through to get to him.

Getting the key out of his pocket, Bucky went around to unlock the handcuffs. "I'm giving you one chance," he said. "Come back in the morning with a ride, maybe better accommodations." There was a lot more that he needed, but that was a decent start. "Then we'll talk more."

Ward got to his feet, rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had left marks-Bucky hadn't been gentle with them. "What are you going to do now?"

"Now," Bucky said, guiding Ward towards the door, "I'm going to sleep." Maybe not immediately, he might stay up for a while to make sure there wasn't a trap, but eventually. Unceremoniously, he shoved Ward out the door and locked it behind him.

This was an unexpected but potentially extremely useful opportunity, and it had landed right in his lap. It would be a shame if it was a trick and he had to kill Ward before he found out anything useful, but maybe-just maybe-it wouldn't be.

Everything was quiet as Bucky turned out the light and got into bed, a knife under his pillow and a gun in the nightstand. There were only the typical cheap motel sounds. Someone slammed a door nearby, he could vaguely hear the television in the next room over, and a car with the stereo on too loud pulled out of the parking lot. Nothing sounded like Hydra. Eventually, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling in the dark, acutely aware of every noise (even the air conditioner loudly rattling to life, which he almost stabbed the first time), he let himself close his eyes.

His dreams were the same as always, dark and bloody and haunting, but he didn't wake up screaming Russian or some other foreign language, so he had to consider the night uneventful. Actually, he woke up to someone knocking on the door. His head jerked up, and he squinted at the clock next to the bed. Eight A.M.. He was normally an early riser, up with the sun, but he'd overslept. Murdering Hydra agents, stress, and nightmares eventually took their toll on a man.

He dragged himself out of bed half-dressed, tucking the knife into the waistband of his pants before approaching the door. Looking through the peephole, he recognized Ward, and opened the door after only a slight moment's hesitation. He'd come back, just like Bucky had told him to.

"You didn't say what time, and I didn't want to be late," Ward said, holding out a large, styrofoam cup, "I got you some-"

Bucky plucked the cup out of his hand and closed the door in his face without a word.

"-coffee." Ward sighed. This was going to be a trying experience.

At least, after a few sips of coffee and taking his time getting ready, Bucky was in a much better mood. Ten minutes later he was cleaned up, dressed, had all of his weapons collected, and stepped out the door with sunglasses on his face, by now half finished cup of coffee in hand, and the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. It wasn't hard to find Ward; he was sitting in the nicest car in the entire parking lot. There didn't seem to be anyone else there, no one watching them, no one waiting. No trap. Bucky still took his time making sure before he headed over. Opening the back door of the SUV, he slid his bag in and then settled into the passenger seat.

"Good choice," he said. Both the coffee and the car. It was the nicest thing he'd ever been in, not like the vans he'd been restrained in the back of before, or the cheap cars he'd 'borrowed' here and there when he needed to get out of town fast and a bus wouldn't do.

"Glad you approve," Ward said. Now that Bucky was in the car, he didn't even seem upset about getting the door shut in his face earlier. "I brought you a bonus." He pulled a manila folder from between the seats and held it out to Bucky.

Bucky took another sip of his coffee and set it aside before taking the file. Wordlessly, he flipped it open, starting to read its contents. He grew still after a moment, reading things twice and then a third time to make sure he wasn't imagining what he was reading. At length, he looked up again. "Why did you do this?"

Ward shrugged. "I'm trying to earn your trust."

This was a strange way to go about it, but Bucky wasn't going to complain. Taking a deep breath, he looked back down at the file. He had work to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky wasn't very fond of the plan. He would have rather gone in alone, without Ward there, but Ward had _insisted_. While Glen Neal might have been getting up there in years, it wasn't an aging, retired technician they were worried about; it was the possibility of him still having connections with Hydra. He'd gone to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., and secretly Hydra, after the second World War, and had been one of the men responsible for keeping the Winter Soldier's arm in top condition. He'd also helped make sure the chair was always running smoothly. No one wanted an unstable, erratic assassin on their hands.

In the eighties, he'd been in a car crash that had severely injured his hands, leaving him unable to perform the job he'd been _officially_ doing for S.H.I.E.L.D. Since then, he'd been retired and lived alone in an apartment. His wife had passed away several years ago and his children were grown and had families of their own. Old age and grand-babies weren't going to save him.

The only chance he had was if Ward put a bullet in Bucky's skull while he was breaking in through a window. Bucky didn't like knowing that a man he hardly knew and trusted even less had a sniper rifle aimed in his direction, but this was a trust building exercise. He'd never had proper back-up before, someone who was genuinely looking out for him to make sure he wasn't going to get captured or murdered; it was strange.

Ward hadn't said anything for a while, and in his absence, there was only silence on the line. That could, hopefully, only mean there was nothing to report and Bucky was in the clear. Still, Bucky paused for a moment after he'd climbed in the window, surveying the living room and listening closely for any sounds.

"You're good," Ward said, "He's not due back for a while."

That meant Bucky had time to wait, but he didn't mind; he'd gotten in early, no one had seen, and now he had plenty of time to look the place over from top to bottom. He didn't exactly expect to find any information, considering how Hydra liked to keep that close, but if there were weapons or traps, he could deal with them.

Twenty minutes later, he'd found an assortment of hand-guns and tasers. He dismantled the guns and spread them out across the kitchen table, where he'd seated himself, while he kept the tasers for himself. There were no other traps, and no silent alarms that he could find, so he decided that the old man wouldn't be a threat on his own.

Bucky sat there and waited for nearly forty minutes. The only thing that broke the silence was Ward giving him a heads up that Glen was entering the building. Bucky straightened up, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders, and waited. He could see the edge of the front door from where he was sitting, so he would know the moment someone came in, and if there was going to be a threat.

In the silence, he heard the key turning in the lock before the door opened, and he tensed in anticipation. Glen didn't notice he was there at first, as he closed the door behind him and locked it, not until he was carrying his bag of groceries into the kitchen. He looked up as he moved into the kitchen, freezing when he finally caught sight of Bucky. Very slowly, Glen set the plastic bag down on the counter, not once looking away from Bucky. 

"It's been a long time," he said softly.

"You remember who I am?" Bucky asked.

"How could I not? You look the same now as you did then, though I'd hoped I'd never see you again," the old man replied.

"And I'd hoped that Hydra would stop torturing me," Bucky said. "We can't all have what we want."

"What do you want from me?" Glen spread his hands. "I'm an old man. I didn't tell you who to kill, or strap you into that chair."

Bucky tilted his head, considering that carefully. "No. But you helped them do that to me." He'd watched Bucky suffer, just like all the others had. They'd treated him like a thing to be used instead of a person. _The Asset_.

Glen approached slowly, pulling out the chair across from Bucky and lowering into it, almost like they were old friends catching up. "I'd take it all back if I could," he admitted. But it was too late now, and wishing he could wouldn't change anything. "There was nothing I could do; you know how they are. They would have killed me."

He was right, but it didn't make Bucky feel any better. Hydra would have killed Glen and replaced him with someone else. But if they had, then at least they wouldn't have been sitting here right now, having this conversation. Bucky would be about to kill someone else, instead. It was decades too late for revenge, because the damage had already been done, but this was more about closure, wrapping up the loose ends. He needed to put to rest the demons from his past, no matter what form they were in now. Even old men.

"Death would have been better than what they did to me." And better than helping people do it. "You were a coward."

Glen sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "So I was," he admitted. "Nobody wants to die."

"No, but some people are brave enough to do the right thing instead of hurting others for their own benefit." In this case, the benefit was staying alive.

"What's done is done. Nothing we do here will change what they did to you," Glen said.

Bucky tilted his head thoughtfully. "No," he agreed, "But it might make me feel better."

While Glen was still in the process of asking what that meant, and what Bucky was going to do, Bucky was already reaching over the table and stabbing Glen in the hand with a small needle. Leaning back calmly, Bucky slid the small injector back into his pocket.

"Tetrodotoxin," he explained, as Glen looked increasingly horrified. "Don't try to get help; it won't be fast enough." He'd thought it would be better than shooting him, and less messy than slitting his throat. Taking his time, Bucky reassembled the guns and holstered them to take with him, all while watching Glen struggle to speak, and eventually, to breathe.

By the time Bucky was ready to go, the old man was dead. He checked his pulse just to be sure, because he didn't want to take chances. That was a mistake a lot of people made, assuming someone was dead without actually checking; he wasn't going to be _that_ kind of person. Satisfied that his work was done, Bucky returned to the window he'd come in through and climbed out again. After he closed it behind him, he perched there on the tiny ledge to take a few deep breaths. Things were going to be better now, they were starting on an upward curve. Maybe.

He made his way down from the ledge, and made his way back to Ward, who by that time had packed up his rifle and was waiting for Bucky in the alley they'd previously agreed upon. He knew that Ward had to have heard everything over the comms, but Ward didn't say a word about what Bucky and Glen had talked about.

"Did it help?" he asked.

Bucky thought that over as he looked past Ward to the end of the alley, making sure they were still alone. "It's a start." He hesitated for a moment-should he thank Ward? Was that an appropriate thing to do when someone helped you eliminate a demon from your past? Deciding against it, he continued, "There's something else I want to do, alone." Another Hydra compound that was near-by. It wasn't very big, but that didn't mean he was going to overlook it. "I'll contact you when I'm done."

Ward watched him closely for a moment, and Bucky almost thought he was going to argue. Instead, he nodded. "All right. You know how to reach me if you need me."

_If he needed him_. Bucky took a deep breath, bit back a comment about not needing anyone to watch his back, because he was used to doing things on his own, and nodded. "Yeah." Trust, this was all about trust right now. If they were going to work together, Bucky couldn't keep contemplating handcuffing Ward to things. "I'll be fine."

He could handle himself just fine, and he _did_. The Hydra base he ended up hitting had never known what'd happened. He swept through like a bad dream, dispatching the guards, slaughtering the soldiers, and showing no mercy to the lab technicians. The Winter Soldier didn't leave survivors-or witnesses. They were Hydra, so they would all die. On his way to the hangar, he swiped a flash-drive and a crate of weapons, loading it onto a quinjet. He checked it over for trackers, tossed out things he didn't need, and slid into the pilot's chair.

He'd taken a day and a half on this little excursion, and he'd been out of contact with Ward for that whole time. On the flip side, Ward hadn't contacted him either, so Bucky hoped that meant he was both alright and had faith that Bucky was coming back. Soon, he would find out. Sighing, he started up the systems. It was time to get out of here and meet up again, figure out his next move. Maybe someday he would be able to stop looking over his shoulder all the time, maybe someday no one would have to worry about Hydra anymore.

It was a nice idea.


End file.
